I looked down at the letter again.
Daniel and Mom came for me. They wanted to take me to the hospital first, but I asked them to bring me one thing from the bedroom before we left: the old blue folder from the bottom drawer of your desk.
You probably forgot what was inside it.
I did not.
My breath caught.
The blue folder.
I remembered it with a sudden chill. Insurance forms. Copies of financial accounts. Password notes I had once written down because Lauren handled most of the household budgeting before the accident. Afterward, I had taken over everything. Or pretended to. The truth was, I had let bills pile up and moved money around without telling her, always assuming she was too exhausted to notice.
